


dismantle the sun

by StarryCleric



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Attempted Kidnapping, Empire Siblings - Freeform, Gen, Hallucinogens, Hurt Beauregard Lionett, Hurt Caleb Widogast, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Beauregard Lionett, Protective Caleb Widogast, Trauma, they both deserve good things but unfortunately i am in the business of writing hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:14:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24721393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarryCleric/pseuds/StarryCleric
Summary: Beau shudders and holds Caleb's hand, which he squeezes back tentatively. She can feel how it shakes in her grip. She does her best to steady him, despite the fact that she wants to shake apart herself and completely fall to pieces.“I am going to hazard a guess here,” Caleb says softly, “that we may have been drugged.”---Tonight was supposed to be a fun night off. Unfortunately for Beau and Caleb, the universe has other plans.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett & Caleb Widogast
Comments: 25
Kudos: 429





	dismantle the sun

Things go wrong… quickly.

The thing is, Beau thinks through a haze, tonight was supposed to be fun. A night off after being subjected to all kinds of stress from every goddamn conceivable direction for way too long. 

The Mighty Nein had split up early into the evening. Caduceus and Jester weren’t much for drinking, even though they loved to spend time with their friends and made sure their drunk asses ended up back at the Xhorhaus. At Beau’s insistence that tonight was for everyone to have their own idea of a good time (no matter how much she secretly hoped that Jester would come along anyway) Caduceus had offered to make cupcakes and hot chocolate at the house for the non-drinkers. Jester had jumped at that, and Fjord quickly volunteered to stay back as well. Beau isn’t actually sure if that was for more quality time with Caduceus or Jester, but she knows which one she hopes it is. Either way, the three of them had looked pretty happy walking together on their way back home. 

Which left Caleb, Veth, Yasha, and Beau to coast from tavern to tavern, getting steadily more drunk as the evening wore on. 

For the most part, things went relatively smoothly. It seemed like half the city had decided that tonight was the night to be out having fun and drinking as much as humanly possible. (Or… drow-ly possible? Beau’s too far gone to care about the right term.) The four of them were having more fun than they’d had in months, cheering on Veth as she destroyed an overly ambitious drow man in a drinking competition, or encouraging Yasha to join them in a boisterous drinking song with the rest of the bar. 

Trouble didn’t strike until they wandered into The Whispering Dutchess tavern. The aura in the bar had struck Beau as mustier and skeevier almost immediately, but she was too drunk to really care as the four of them stumbled in. Veth immediately made a beeline to the bar. She tripped a bit over her own feet, but Yasha caught her by the arm and helped her up onto one of the bar stools, clapping her roughly on the shoulder. Beau smiled a bit wryly to see Yasha actually cracking a grin as Veth launched into an impassioned rant about the quality of ale across the different bars they’d visited that night. 

“Looks like we’re on our own for a few minutes, unless Veth remembers she was going to bring two pints back for us,” Caleb says, nodding towards the counter, where Yasha and Veth have both just ordered and downed another shot each. 

Beau huffs out a laugh. “She’ll get around to it soon. If only to check where you’ve wandered off to.”

“ _Me_ wander off?” Caleb says, plopping down heavily in a seat at an empty table. He scritches Frumpkin’s chin, who is currently wrapped around his shoulders like the world’s fluffiest purring scarf.

“Yeah, you know how she gets fuckin’... overprotective over you and shit, _especially_ when she’s drunk,” Beau says, dropping into the chair next to him, resting her chin in her hand. 

Caleb hums in agreement, and so does Frumpkin. “Better over than underprotective, I suppose.”

“You’re goddamn right it is.” Beau clumsily swipes out a hand at him, which he tries to duck under, but he’s no match for even drunk Beau’s reflexes. She ruffles his fire-red hair fondly and a touch aggressively. It’s how she shows affection. His bangs and ponytail are a mess, but he looks pleased.

Beau opens her mouth again to launch into a well-intentioned roast of her nerdy friend’s blush being the same color as his hair, but before she can speak a word, a short drow man with long hair pulled back into a braid slides into the third chair at the table.

“Can we help you?” Caleb asks, pushing out from beneath Beau’s hand on his head. 

“I thought I recognized you, but I had to be sure,” the man says brightly. “I’d only heard descriptions but… it is you, isn’t it? The Mighty Nein?”

“Some of us, anyway,” Beau says. “Where’d you hear about us?”

“Everyone in this city knows who you are,” he says, a grin still plastered across his face. “You brought back our Beacon. You’re heroes across the whole country!”

“Oh, that.” Caleb’s blush deepens. 

“I just had to come over and thank you personally. It’s a great honor to get to see you in person after everything you’ve done for our people.” The man stands back up. “Here, let me buy you two a drink. It’s the least I can do for you!”

“That’s okay man, I think we’re actually good to go,” Beau says. It’s a bit hard to think through the way alcohol is muddying her perception, but there’s something… off about his tone and ever so slightly tense body language. _He could just be nervous talking to his heroes,_ she thinks.

“No, I insist!” He smiles at them and practically sprints towards the bar. 

Beau tries to keep a sharp eye on him the whole way. Next to her, Caleb shifts around in his seat uncomfortably, so Beau places an arm on his hand.

“Hey. It’s probably okay. Just some guy a bit enthusiastic about meeting us after everything he’s heard,” she says. 

Caleb nods, but ducks his head into Frumpkin’s fur again anyway as the man comes back faster than Beau expected. He carries two full flagons of ale, the foam dripping over the edges and spilling across the wooden table. 

“To the heroes of the Dynasty!” he says excitedly. 

Beau gives him a half-hearted grin as she and Caleb accept the proffered drinks. “Thanks for these, but you didn’t have to.”

The man’s face falls a little. “You’re not happy with gifts?”

Beau winces, hoping she hasn’t just committed some sort of extreme Xhorhasian faux pas. “Uh, no, that’s not exactly what I meant.” She scrutinizes the man’s face. Well, he seems innocent enough. She glances at Caleb, who also seems to be looking for any sort of ill-intent in the guy’s expression.

Gods, they’re a pair of suspicious bastards. The ale doesn’t look or smell off, and she’s pretty sure she did a good job keeping a lookout for any sleight of hand with the cups. Beau huffs under her breath, then clinks her glass against Caleb’s and takes a sip off the top. Following her lead, Caleb also takes a swig from his own. 

The man beams. “I’m so glad you decided to accept my gift. Wait – I’m here with some friends, they just _have_ to know you’re here. Stay right there!” 

“Hold on –” Beau tries to say, reaching after him, but she’s still pretty drunk. He slips away from her grasp at his elbow and hustles off into the crowded bar. 

“That was odd,” Caleb says, sipping his ale again. 

“Yeah, you’d think he’d want to ask for an autograph or something. It’d last longer than a pint.”

Caleb doesn’t say anything, just looks down at his cup.

“Where’d he head off to anyway? His friends couldn’t be that far away,” Beau says. She twists around in her seat, scanning over the different heads bobbing up and down at the tables and around the bar. The room is relatively small, and she should have been able to pick him out quickly, but it’s hard to make out details through her slightly blurry vision. 

When she looks back, Caleb is still staring resolutely down at the ale.

“Hey, come on,” Beau says, reaching out for him. “Don’t go getting all maudlin on me now. It’s just a gift from a fan. It doesn’t mean anything more than that.”

“Beauregard,” Caleb says quietly. His hushed tone is strained, and cracks on the last syllable of her name. “Tell me what you see right now.”

That is definitely Caleb’s _oh gods something has gone horribly wrong_ voice. Beau’s chest tightens as she immediately switches into damage control mode. 

“Right now I see a crowded bar, two pints of ale, and a very pale friend of mine,” Beau says. She reaches out to touch his arms, then hesitates. Damn it, she always forgets if touch is good or bad to help bring him back to reality when he gets like this, she _really_ has to remember to double check with him later… 

“So what you are saying is, this table is certainly not on fire?”

Beau freezes. 

“...Beauregard?”

“Nope, table is definitely not on fire.” Beau decides, _ah, fuck it_ , and reaches out to grab his hands in her own. He stiffens and keeps his head down but doesn’t pull away. “Okay, don’t worry Caleb. Whatever you’re seeing isn’t real, and you’re going to be okay –”

A heavy hand claps down on her shoulder. Beau flinches instinctively, and turns to see who it is.

Her father’s face scowls down at her. His hand flexes and squeezes where he’s gripping her.

Beau sucks in a sharp breath and definitely does not squeak, even a little bit. She closes her eyes, forces herself to inhale and exhale slowly, and looks again. The pressure on her shoulder has diminished a little, but Thoreau is still there, fixing her in place with an angry glare.

“Caleb. I’m going to guess that you don’t see my dad standing right behind me at the moment.”

Next to her, Caleb’s eyes flicker up for just a moment, then back to the table. “ _Nein._ Just a cloud of ash.”

Beau shudders and squeezes his hand, which he squeezes back tentatively. She can feel how it shakes in her grip. She does her best to steady him, despite the fact that she wants to shake apart herself and completely fall to pieces.

“I am going to hazard a guess here,” Caleb says softly, “that we may have been drugged.”

Now that Beau is focusing a little harder, it’s easier to pick out how her father’s form is wavering slightly in the flickering light from the fireplace. The pressure on her shoulder nearly fades away to nothing. It’s hard to think around how her heart is pounding in her chest, but she forces herself to get a grip. 

It’s just a hallucination. It can’t do a thing to her.

“That slimy little bastard,” Beau growls. “Fans of the Mighty Nein my ass. He must have gone off to warn his ‘friends’ that we drank whatever he gave us.”

Caleb gives a little nod, more of a jerk forwards than a fully conscious movement, but it’s better than no response at all. Which, if Beau’s usual luck holds out, is probably what he’s barrelling towards right now. She privately starts a five minute countdown in her head before she’s pretty sure she’ll lose him altogether.

Around them, the crowd starts to shift. Between keeping an eye on Caleb and the ghostly presence of her father looming over her, Beau barely catches sight of the original drow man opening the door of the tavern and moving back towards them. This time he’s accompanied by a group of rowdy angry men all holding ropes and swords, and he’s still got that stupid fucking grin plastered across his face.

“Caleb. Don’t look now but it’s time for some evasive maneuvers.”

“Ja, okay.”

He doesn’t look okay.

“If you hold onto my hand, do you think you can follow my lead?”

Another jerk of a nod. 

Beau takes exactly three seconds to breathe. Now that she’s aware of it, she can feel the drug in her system speeding up her heart rate and making the ends of her fingers tingle unpleasantly. Her hand is sweating profusely where she’s gripping Caleb, and she hopes he doesn’t slip away. 

“On the count of three, we break for the door. One… two…”

Beau shoves backwards from the table, straight through the smoky ghost of her father. She clutches Caleb’s hand as hard as she can and hauls him towards the door. He stumbles a bit behind her, but by some divine providence doesn’t fall to the ground. 

A few well placed elbows to a couple of chests effectively get people to move out of their way. Standing and rushing is doing a number on Beau’s head. Her father isn’t looming in front of her, but the phantom weight of a heavy skirt brushes against her ankles and nearly sends her sprawling. 

A vaguely familiar voice shouts out “Catch them!” but Beau doesn’t plan on sticking around. Her vision is wavering in front of her, but she’s a master at her craft, and dodges around the two figures that lunge at her with enough energy and speed to drag Caleb after her as well. She thinks she hears an actual snarl from one of them, but that could easily be a drug-induced hallucination. It feels like there are dogs snapping at her heels.

“Come on, come on,” Beau pants, shoving herself and Caleb through the front door of the tavern. They tear off down the cobblestones of the darkened street, neither of them daring to look behind them when they hear heavy footsteps start chasing after them.

“Beau, I can’t see – I don’t know where we’re going,” Caleb says desperately, huffing from a few paces behind her. 

Beau grimaces and chalks that one up to the drugs as well. Instead of answering him, she yanks him down an alley to the right, then through another to the left; then right, left, straight, right, until they’ve wandered into a maze of old buildings a fair distance from the Whispering Dutchess. Voices are still shouting behind them, but they seem to come from different directions and echo strangely in her head. 

The burst of colder air outside is doing nothing to help the way running at top speed sends the drugs pumping faster through her system. Her boots click against the street, and all of a sudden the darkened alley walls are made of white marble, and she’s wearing heels that _click click click_ against spotless tile floors. Her heart stutters in her chest. 

Caleb somehow manages to yank her back before she slams into a concrete wall, which jolts her to reality. Looking back at him, his blue eyes are shiny and distant, and there’s not a speck of color left in his face. At least he’s kept his damn cat wrapped around his neck… 

“Wait a minute. Frumpkin.” 

Beau pauses before hauling off in a new direction. Caleb raises his shaky free hand to run it through his cat’s soft spotted fur. He doesn’t look up to answering verbally, but he does raise a hesitant eyebrow.

She shakes her head to clear away the sparking clouds of smoke at the corners of her vision that threaten to bring back her parents’ mansion. “We left Yasha and Veth back there. Frumpkin can send them a warning and tell them to go get the others for help.” 

“He can’t… talk.” Caleb’s voice is barely above a whisper, like he’s really choking on ash. 

Beau opens her mouth to respond, but Caleb is already reaching for his spellbook to tear out a clean page. She drops his hand so he can pull a quill seemingly out of nowhere and scrawl a hasty message onto the parchment. Beau yanks out her hair ribbon with more force than was probably necessary, making her scalp sting, and uses it to tie the paper around Frumpkin’s neck like a collar.

“That should do it,” Caleb murmurs. He bends down so he can take Frumpkin’s face in his hands. “Now you – be a good cat and find Veth. Give her the message and then find me or Beau again, ja?”

Frumpkin blinks at him fondly, before twisting around gracefully and taking off down the alley. 

“And don’t get caught!” Beau calls after him. 

Caleb leans back against the wall, still perched on the balls of his feet. He looks exhausted and not all the way present in the moment, but he manages to crane his head upwards to squint at her. “Do you think we should keep running?”

She wants to respond, but when she blinks, her father flares in front of her again, this time with a howling screech and empty voids where his eyes and heart should be.

Beau will deny shrieking till the day she dies as she throws out an instinctive punch. The vision claws at her face but fades as quickly as it came, leaving her shaking with renewed adrenaline coursing through her veins. 

Caleb grabs her hand again and pulls himself back to his feet. He looks startled but a bit more aware of his surroundings.

Beau groans. “I think we’re both in for a long night.”

At least his raspy laugh helps take the edge off things. 

“Come on. We should keep moving before we’re both too freaked to run.” Beau squeezes his hand and starts towards the next street to the left. She can’t hear more footsteps immediately behind them, and they probably shouldn’t move too much so Frumpkin can find them again, but if she’s completely honest with herself they probably won’t get very far. 

The streets are nearly empty at this time of night, with everyone either sticking to the busy bars or already in bed. They won’t be able to hide in a crowd, but there won’t be anyone asking any questions either. The further they run, the quicker the visions creep up on her. Beau has to jump out of the way of shadowy ghosts with her father’s face leaping out at her more than once. 

Everything she sees begins to take on a grey-green hue, and it feels like there’s heat radiating out from the center of her chest where her heart pounds like a drum. Light spots flare impossibly bright in the corner of her vision. She knows she’s not going to be able to take much more of this, especially once she starts hearing Thoreau’s voice muttering unintelligibly behind her.

It’s Caleb that cracks first though. Beau can’t say she’s surprised, based on what she can only assume the drugs are making him see.

One minute they’re ducking beneath a clothesline in an otherwise abandoned alley, and the next Caleb is crashing to his knees with a horrified expression. He’s still got a vice-like grip on Beau’s hand, and only her deeply ingrained catlike reflexes keep her from tumbling flat on her back.

“Woah, hey, how are we doing,” Beau asks. Her voice is shakier than she’d hoped it would be as she tentatively takes a seat at Caleb’s side.

To put it lightly, he’s not looking good. His pupils are blown wide and streaks of sweat run down his face, despite the chill in the night air. He’s mouthing some words in Zemnian. Beau curses herself for not taking the time to learn the basics of the language for the millionth time as she snatches his hand back to keep him from clawing off his own skin.

“ _Nein, nein,_ ” Caleb murmurs. He tries to shake her off, but can barely physically tug his arm. “Take them out, please, _please_ take them out…”

“Come on man, you’re going to hurt yourself.” 

Beau doesn’t want to think about how many crystals must be shining in the alleyway for him right now, and whose voice is echoing in his head. She pushes him lightly so his back is resting against the wall, then scoots backwards to lean him against her shoulder.

It looks like they’re going to be staying here for a while.

Caleb doesn’t respond instantly, trapped in his head while demonic hallucination Ikithon must be jamming crystals into his arms. He shudders violently and once again tries to rip at his skin with his fingernails. When Beau tries to stop him, he throws his head backwards and lets out a noise halfway between a sigh of acceptance and a shout of pain. His skull bangs against the stone wall and Beau winces sympathetically. That’s definitely going to hurt in the morning.

“You’re okay, Caleb, you’re okay,” Beau coaxes. She hopes it sounds more soothing to Caleb than it does in her own ears. She runs her hands up and down his arms, tracing lines from his shoulders to his wrists in a slow pattern that swirls and dips around the faint scars she can see in the moonlight. His breathing hitches, and _oh fuck_ he’s started crying.

Beau’s heart is already going a mile a minute, and it stutters once again. Without thinking she wraps her arms around his shuddering form and pulls him tightly into a hug. He twitches, but otherwise stays locked in the same position. He doesn’t actively protest the embrace, though, which Beau decides to take as tacit approval to continue. Maybe this might actually help.

As usual, this is the exact moment when everything goes to hell.

The greenish light she’s come to loathe flashes in her peripheral vision, and when it clears away she’s looking at a hag’s dilapidated hut instead of a warehouse wall in Xhorhas. Somehow, deep in her heart, Beau knows immediately that she’s completely alone. Isharnai took her up on her offer, and in exchange for breaking Veth’s curse, she’s chosen to break away from the Mighty Nein forever. 

A sob catches in her throat as loneliness howls inside her. Her chest physically aches from the looming pressure over her heart that threatens to overwhelm her. 

She’s really done it this time. Taken the one good thing in her life and permanently given it away. It’s all for the greater good of her friends, of course, but that doesn’t stop the way her shoulders tremble and her heart knocks against her ribs. 

Is it actually possible to die from loneliness? 

A man’s hand curls around her left bicep, and long double jointed fingers snatch her other one. It’s Thoreau and Isharnai, threatening to drag her towards the hut, and she has no power to fight them off. She thrashes against them and cries out. In the doorway, she can see the baby brother she’d barely met bawling his eyes out at the sight of her before he vanishes into mist.

“Beau? Beauregard!”

Beau jolts when she realizes someone is genuinely wrapped around her. She blinks away the tears clouding her vision and makes eye contact with a harried-looking Caleb.

“Back with me yet?”

Her arms are still thrown around his shoulders where they’d been a few… seconds? minutes? ago, which means he’s still curled protectively against her torso. His face is also stained with tear tracks.

She sniffs and shakes her head to clear it. “Y-yeah, I’m doing great over here,” she grumbles, but it’s half-hearted. 

“I am doing great as well.” 

She snorts. “I’m sure. That looked like a pretty nasty hallucination.”

“I could say the same to you.”

“You know, tonight was supposed to be fun.”

“Well, part of it was. And hallucinogens can have recreational applications at times.”

Beau resists the urge to punch him based solely on the fact that his voice is still shaky and weak. “I don’t think these are those kinds of drugs. Mostly I’m just mad that guy interrupted us before I was able to roast the shit out of you.”

“Hm?”

“Some killer joke about blushing as red as your hair. It would have been great in the moment.”

“Ha,” Caleb says, and the idiot has the audacity to actually smile. “You were going to _roast_ me. S’funny.”

That’s the darkest humor Beau’s ever heard come out of his mouth. It most decidedly is _not even remotely funny_ , and Beau might actually want to cry a bit more, but at least he’s not locked in his own fucking nightmares anymore, so she huffs out the driest laugh ever, and ignores the lingering shadows that rest on both their shoulders. 

Another shudder runs through both of them, and they hold each other closer at the same time. It looks like they’re going to be riding this whole thing out right here before the clerics have a chance to find them.

It takes a few hours and a couple more episodes of wildly frightening hallucinations before either of them settle down a bit in the alleyway corner. The drugs finally seem to be working their way out of their systems. They might have hit Caleb a bit harder (probably because they had some pretty specific material to draw from) but he’s the first to relax enough to let his eyelids flutter shut. Beau has to shift around a bit on the hard stone ground so he can slump comfortably against her shoulder while her legs fall asleep. That’s alright. She’s meditated in weirder positions before. 

It’s a surprise, then, when two small hands land on her shoulders to shake her awake.

“What’s happening?” Beau mumbles, voice thick with exhaustion. She opens her eyes blearily to see Jester’s bright lavender eyes blinking at her. 

“Beau! You’re awake! What happened?” Jester is practically vibrating with tension as she scans Beau for injuries.

“Is Caleb okay?” Beau asks, twisting her head to the left before answering.

Next to her, Caduceus is cupping Caleb’s head in his hands and murmuring the words to a restoration spell. Frumpkin weaves back and forth between the two of them, his fur ruffled as Caleb blinks awake with a yawn. Now that her eyes have adjusted a bit more, she can see the rest of the Mighty Nein gathered in the alley.

“Good boy, Frumpkin,” Beau says, reaching out to stroke his furry head. 

Jester touches her cheeks gently and begins casting the same restorative spell. When it’s finished, the sick weight of the drugs in her body dissipates, and she takes the first breath of refreshing air she’s had in hours.

“So as it turns out, we’ve got to watch out for kidnappers with drugs from now on,” Beau says. She rubs her eyes, completely exhausted now that the overwhelming fear has left her system. 

“Sounds exciting,” Jester jokes. Beau can tell by the way her eyes are glittering that she doesn’t find it all that funny. “But I’m glad you’re here with us instead of with kidnappers. It looks like you both needed each other tonight.”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” 

Beau leans forward and wraps Jester in a tight hug, then reaches out to drag Caleb into it as well. He stumbles over on wobbly knees, but returns it eagerly.

“Group hug!” Jester yells excitedly. The rest of the Nein swoop in instantly to surround them as well. 

Buried in the center of the cluster alongside Caleb, Beau reaches her arm out across his back and squeezes him as hard as she can. He hugs her back just as tight.

**Author's Note:**

> one of these days I'll let Beau and/or Caleb just have a good time for once


End file.
